


Through a Room

by shuderssea



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: F/M, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Musicians, Rivals to Lovers, because i love femke, kinda slowburn, musician au, rasmus and my oc femke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuderssea/pseuds/shuderssea
Summary: It's not his Intention to write a love song for Luka Percovic; it just happens somewhere along the lines.He's not supposed to fall in love over a Piece for Piano and Cello; he does so anyways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yo, okay, so: the perkz/jankos storyline is the main plot  
> something in me screamed for a musician au, so i did some Research and had a heated discussion over who would Play which Instrument with myself.
> 
> (also Nothing is stopping me from having fun writing horrible selfindulgent ff About Caps and my favourite OC Femke.)
> 
> Uh. Jankos is a Componist, Luka is a Violinist, Femke Plays Cello and Caps Piano.  
> ( i'm a Violinist as well, so i had a lot of fun writing this!)  
> this isn't gonna be long and i'll probably only upload when i want to, but
> 
> if you liked it, please leave me a comment or a Kudos. Those things really, REALLY make my days

The musician AU I always wanted to write but never got around to do so.

Femke Schmidt has the prettiest laugh.  
She throws her head back, and he is rendered useless for every second she spends laughing; his throath goes dry, his cheeks heat up, and there is nothing he can do against those feelings, these heatwaves that radiate over him, the drop of his stomach- she is still laughing, and then she stops, leaning forward and smiling at him, like he is the most interesting person in the entire world.  
Maybe his breath hitches for a second there, and maybe he misses everything the Conductor says, and maybe his notes crash onto the floor.  
That doesn‘t matter, though, because Femke Schmidt is still smiling at him and he very nearly dies on the spot.

Luka has the worst attitude, ever.  
He‘s always very stuck up about himself, taking every Solo his Department offers like it‘s nothing, always making sure that he at least gets to play First Violin in everything they put out- Bachs Brandenburger Concerto? Luka better gets the first Solopart, or else no one gets to have it- it‘s tiring, really, and it makes him want to dump all the Sheets he has to carry around everyday right on the head of the brunette Violinplayer, hopefully shutting him up in the Process.   
Luka is very up in the clouds about himself, relying too much on the talent he has, and the practice and admiration that is shoved towards him pretty much everyday.  
It‘s annoying, it‘s aggreviating, seeing no other Violin player ever get a Solo- but, also, and he has to give him that- Luka is very good. It‘s kinda endearing.

Rasmus Winther tilts his head when he‘s thinking.  
He sits across the room, staring at the Conductor, and tilting his head ever so slightly, from one side to the other; when the Conductor is finished, he straightens his back, resuming to his music, sitting at the Piano all day, just playing away- he‘s good, but he‘s clumsy when his gaze shifts through the room and catches her eyes, tilting his head again, before a small smile spreads on his lips. She will always smile back, it comes as natural to her almost, and Rasmus holds her eyes before looking at his sheets again, knocking them over.  
She can‘t tear her eyes away, still smiling when he resumes up, fidgeting with the sheets and hastily looking up again; not at her, but that‘s okay, she just looks back at her sheets, nearly coming in late for their cue.  
It‘s okay, though, because when she looks up again, he‘s tilting his head again, and it‘s so cute she can‘t help but blush a little bit.

Marcin doesn‘t have an ounce of musicality in his body.  
How he managed to join the highest grossing school for music to ever exist remains a miracle to many, even though one has to admit, what he lacks in playing an instrument or even managing to hit the right pitch, he makes up in actually composing music; it‘s unclear how he does it, but that is probably the reason he is kept around the school for so long. It definitely isn‘t the way he tortures the instruments he touches, but he‘s decent in sorting sheets and he can write whole operas, just not act them out.  
Marcin is very quiet most of the times, except when he‘s allowed pen, paper and an idea that formates in his head, being scribbled onto paper and thrown into whoever has the luck of running into him after such an idea.  
He often has ink in his face, on his hands, after such sessions- it`s nearly cute, to be honest.

__________________________________________________________________________

The small room is stacked with instruments and chairs, nearly reaching the ceiling; it‘s dim in there, the only source of light being a small light barely illuminating the table it stands upon. From the outside no light comes in either, it‘s very dark already, and quite late. Winter is here, and the sun never really shines during that time of the year. Norway, right?  
The room is quiet as well as it is dim, the only sound is the scratching of a pen that glides over paper, scribbling down marks and notes and pitches and what not- sometimes the pen comes to a stop, only to fly over the page again in the next second; it‘s all messy handwriting, really unorganized and hard to read, but it‘s quite late already, so it can be forgiven, one would assume. There‘s one other sound in the room, and it‘s the breathing of the writer, hitching every now and then, falling flat and rising in different intervalls.  
The writer is a young Man, no older than 23, maybe even younger; he has blonde hair and eyes that would normally be lighter, but due to the lack of light and the time, they come off as plain black- this is Marcin (paused to google how to write the name) Jankowski, with his bright smile and hands full of ink wherever he goes. He‘s a componist in the making, in the third grade of the all too renowned School of Music in Slemdalsveien, Oslo in Norway; and being this, a componist in the making, is also what keeps him up right now, is also the reason why he is awake long after the sun settled and the clock making it‘s way towards Midnight.  
He‘s had an idea, an idea for a new song that he could use, could write- he‘s an artist through and through, so in no time he was sitting at his table, and now he remains there, his mind racing through the ideas he has, scribbling note after note down, filling sheets with complicated arrangements.  
In his head, he can hear the music all too well, colouring in people to play different parts; before too long he has filled one side, then two, with elaborate music, and maybe an explicit Violin solo, a long line of Quavers for the Cello-Players, way too specific melodies for the Pianoplayer.  
The clock strikes twelve, and Marcin shrieks up when he hears footsteps, then a knock on the door; he‘s not actually supposed to be in this room after ten o‘clock at highest, and while he technically knows that he won‘t really get in trouble he doesn‘t want to hear a lecture just yet- so he shoves the sheets into his bag, shuts the lamp, when the door opens-  
He releases a breath he didn‘t know he was holding when he sees an all too familiar face-  
A comically wide grin and broad shoulders enter the room, and he turns on the lamp again, all the while Martin is closing the door behind him.  
„ You weren‘t in our Room“ Martin says, and Marcin rolls his eyes, grins ever so distracted.  
Martin Hanssen not only is his roommate in the Academy, nor is he only one of the better Oboe Players in the School- he‘s also Marcins self-proclaimed best friend. Maybe it‘s because their names are so similar, or because on paper they look similar- both blonde, tall; the difference is that Marcin looks like he lifts, and Marcin definitely doesn‘t look like that.  
„ I had an Idea“ Marcin answers, truthfully, reaching into his bag and pulling out the sheets again, handing them over to Martin, who immidiately starts humming the melody of the first Violin.  
There is also another difference between Martin and Marcin- where Martin is all actually playing Music, finding the right pitch by only looking at Quavers and Quarters and whatever-  
Marcin can‘t sing to save his life; hell, he can‘t even play an instrument properly; technically, he knows all the notes and scores, and he can arrange them, play them out on the Piano if he has to, but he‘s not a musical person per se. It had been an adventure to even get accepted into this school when he can‘t hold a note, when his fingers more often than not stumble over the piano keys- it had been his luck, really, that one of the Teachers saw his potential in composing Pieces rather than performing them.  
Martin is still humming, tilting his head ever so slightly, before handing the papers back.  
„ That‘s good- It‘s good.“ He says, „The Violin Solo, it‘s nice.“  
„ Thanks“ Marcin says, „I just gotta clean it up, tomorrow, and then hand it to the Conductor“ He adds- he has great luck with the Conductor of their Orchestra; she‘s all over his pieces, he got special permission in first year to write whatever and she would have it played; that‘s good, and not the norm. He knows, he is very lucky.  
But if he‘s gonna hand it to her- he reaches over to his pen and scribbles something down over the Violinsolo.  
„ What are you writing?“ Martin asks, and Marcin turns the sheets ever so slightly that Martin can see the words; right over „Solo Violin 1“ is another notion, written in all Capital letters.  
„ NOT Luka Percovic“  
Luka Percovic is a stuck-up, know-it-all guy from Year 2; if one is too believe most of the teachers, he‘s the most talented student they had in a long time. He plays Violin, and takes every Solo Marcin writes as if they always belonged to him. He‘s full of himself, and the reason why Marcin didn‘t write any Violin Pieces for last years Spring Concert, only producing one piece for Cello and Piano.  
The worst thing about Luka is that he‘s good and knows it; it boasts his Ego massively. He‘s not ugly, either, and that makes Marcin even more angry at him- it‘s unfair, seeing someone so attractive as Luka just ruin it all by being a huge idiot all the time.  
He probably wouldn‘t care that much about this guy were they not in the same extended group of friends; on top of it all, Luka is popular, due to some reason.  
They‘re in the same extended friend group, because while Marcin only really has three friends- Martin, Oskar and Rasmus- Luka somehow managed to befriend not only one but two of his friends as well; it‘s Rasmus‘ fault, to be fair, because he has an attitude as well, and people of the same kind tend to flock together. (Marcin and Martin are still frim believers of the theory that Rasmus just befriended Luka because he has a very nice girl in his friend group as well, and he brings her along sometimes, and Rasmus seems to quite enjoy her company.)  
Next to him, Martin laughs while he stands up again, pushing his chair back.  
„ You know that Ms. Lerret is gonna give the Solo to Luka anyways?“ Martin asks, and Marcin sighs quietly, „Hey, let‘s worry about it tomorrow. It‘s late.“  
„ Yes.“  
He stands up as well, and only when he is all settled into his bed he realizes that he must‘ve left the sheets behind, because he can‘t- for the love of god- not remember packing them up again.  
He‘ll just have to get them tomorrow morning, first things first.  
In the morning he cleans up the sheets and hands them to the Conductor before having to run as to not arrive late to his first class; Musical theory. It‘s the one class he shares with two of his three friends, and he happily falls into the Chair next to Oskar.

Later that day, his Conductor corners him. Ms. Lerret smiles at him, holding his composition in her hands.  
„ I‘ve had it played already“ She says, smiling, „It‘s good, very good, Marcin.“ She adds, smiling, „I‘m also very happy you already chose a Soloist; i would have chosen the same one!“  
He hasn‘t chosen a Soloist, he states, and the glance of the Conductor falls, she turns his sheet to him- while cleaning up the Sheets he must‘ve forgotten to erase Luka‘s name, instead only erasing the „NOT“ scribbled next to it; he bites his lips and he feels to bad telling Ms. Lerret that he definitely doesn‘t want Luka to play his piece, and so he quietly conceides defeat.  
„ No, It‘s- Luka is probably the best choice“ He says, the Conductor smiles at him and hurries off- he wants to take it all back when he sees Luka Percovic later. smiling at him with his stupid grin.  
„ Ey, Jankowski“ He yells through the hall, and Marcin regrets everything he has ever done in his entire life when he turns around, facing Luka.  
„ Thanks for the Solo“ He yells, and Martin has to physically restrain him from beating up some poor first year who just happens to run into him, and who apollogizes with red cheeks after Martin tells them it‘s okay and Marcin won‘t beat them up; he feels kinda bad after the kid hurries along again,   
„ It‘s Luka“ He complains, „I can‘t stand h- this guy!“ He says, „He‘s so annoying.“  
„ He sure is“ Rasmus mumbles, but he‘s not paying attention, not really, he‘s looking at his phone- and, coming from Rasmus Winther, that sure means something. Come to think of it, he‘s never really seen the Younger Boy on his phone actively.  
Marcin leans over, trying to glance at the display, but his friend is quick to notice and shuts it off, putting it in his bag again.  
„ I have Piano lesson now“ Rasmus says, „How about you?“  
„ Free period“ Martin says, Oskar next to him nodds, and Marcin says Bye to his friend group, heading over to his next period, which is one he shares with no one else; it‘s Componists class, where it‘s just him and the teacher in a room and he gets to try to write different genres of songs.  
The topic for today is „Love“, and here‘s the thing:  
Despite being 22 years old and definitely not straight, Marcin has only been in love once. And that had been when he had turned 18- an embarassing crush, fleeting too- and it had been Oskar.  
He tries to make his way around the topic of Love, trying to come up with a song about familiar love, love between friends, but his teacher sees through his act right away.  
„ Romantic Love“ He states, „Mr. Jankowski, think about being in love with a young Lady, who you want to marry one day“ The teacher says, Marcin has to stifle a laugh. Yeah, that won‘t be happening.  
„ I‘ve even got you a Partner“ The teacher then says, „I want you two to write the love song together- well, you‘re gonna write it, and he‘s gonna perform it. You, too, if you can manage that.“ His teacher says, smiling at him.  
„ A good old Love Song, for Violin and Piano.“  
A bad feeling, very bad, settles in Marcins stomach when his teacher looks at the Clock.  
„ Ah, he‘s late“- interrupted by the clock- „Or, not. Come in!“

After the lesson, Marcin is fuming, slamming his pen on the paper a little too forcefully, because it spills dark ink all over the sheet; what was on there wasn‘t good, anyway, so it doesn‘t matter.  
He rushes out of the room, only briefly saying Goodbye to his teacher, then he‘s already leaving. He hears steps rushing behind him.  
„ Ey, Jankos“ Luka Percovic says, tapping him on the shoulder, but he‘s not stopping, heading along, so Luka has to walk next to him in comically wide steps, „Jankos, ey. I‘m talking to you.“  
„ What?“  
„ When do you want to meet to write this Love Song? I‘m not interested in playing something super cheesy.“ Luka says, „Like the thing you wrote for Cello and Piano? Yeah, I‘m definitely not playing anything as lovestricken as this. How did you even come up with this?“  
Marcin won‘t tell Luka that he wrote the piece for two people specifically, so he just sighs.  
„ I‘m the Componist.“ He says instead, „You‘re just gonna have to settle.“  
„ It‘s my piece as well, I‘m supposed to play it. Know what, I‘ll just come round later. Better be in your room, then.“ Luka says, he shrugs, grinning his oh-so-confident grin again. Jesus, does this guy ever stop? Marcin stops dead in his tracks, smitten, when Luka walks past him, turning around and having the audacity to blow him a kiss.  
„ See you then, Jankos“ He says, and it‘s only now that Marcin notes the shortening of his last name, being played out as a pet name when Luka says it like that. Oh, god.  
He wants to remain angry, but he‘s too smitten, and it should be illegal to be such an ass and still look so damn good; Marcin groans before he starts to walk again.  
There are approximately fifteen things he‘d be doing tonight than write a lovesong with Luka, but at least the Idiot brought him an idea on how to write it- he‘s just gonna write it the way he wrote his Cello and Piano Piece, „Through a Room.“  
It had been almost like a conversation, filled with love and sweetness and all bubbly and good things people associated to the First Love of their Lives; written for two people specifically, only for them to perform.  
Maybe that‘s a starting point, again, for a romantic song.  
______________________________________________________________________________

He would loose his head, he thinks sometimes, were it not on his body- he just forgets stuff, always leaves something behind. In this case, it‘s his pencil case which Martin throws towards him, grinning ever so slightly, rubbing his back while he puts the case into his bag, muttering a small thank you; Luka next to him laughs, teasing him about how he always leaves something behind.  
They‘re heading towards their next class, which is Orchestra and presumably the class Rasmus Winther looks forward to the most every day; and he isn‘t even that much of an Orchestraplayer himself.  
He learned Piano when he was little, and then he just kept it up for most parts of his life until it brought him onto this Academy that he loves more than anything else. He loves playing the Piano, just doing Music in general, playing by himself, on the Piano in his‘ and Luka‘s room for hours on end, until Luka tells him to finally shut up, no one can stand hearing the same horribly morbid love song Marcin wrote last year. (Rasmus believes that Luka just doesn‘t like the piece because he didn‘t get to play it on stage)  
Rasmus likes the piece, though.  
It‘s a cheesy song, with a polish title that he has yet to decipher, but it has a nice flow to it, good rythm and it reads almost like a conversation between the two instruments; it‘s also inexplicably well written, but so are most pieces Marcin writes these days.  
They‘re playing Marcin‘s newest piece today, he heard, and he‘s quite excited to do so; be it that the Blonde is his friend, or that his pieces are just that good, but he always makes sure to include at least one piano passage, that Rasmus enjoys playing.  
Currently, in the Orchestra of Ms.Lerret, he‘s the only Piano player, and that‘s suprising on a music academy. But most other Piano students either only do Solo Pieces or are studying to become a teacher and therefore don‘t actually have the time to join and participate in an Orchestra- good for him, he gets to play every concert they have.  
Luka next to him happily chats away, his voice only now coming through to Rasmus, but the words aren‘t directed at him and more towards Martin who tilts his head, then nodds slightly; they‘re almost in front of the room, and Rasmus stops short in his tracks, then pushes his hair back, sighing quietly. He forgot-  
„ I have to head back again“ He says to his friends, „I forgot my Sheets, for the Brandenburg Concerto“ He adds, already about to go back; he knows they‘ll probably be playing Marcin‘s new piece today, but he can‘t get in Trouble with Ms.Lerret again for forgetting his sheets, again.  
„ Should we wait?“ Martin asks, Rasmus shakes his head.  
„ No, it‘s fine, go along. I‘ll be back soon“ He mumbles, ignoring the laughter of Luka as he turns around and heads down the path they came from again, towards the Dorms.  
God, how could he forget again?  
He was already quite forgetful when he was little, his head too full of childish stuff; it didn‘t change as he grew older, but now his head was filled with Music all the time, with different Pieces and Theory and Songs that ghosted through his thoughts all the time- there is always something going on.  
He‘s walking faster now as he steps outside to walk to the Dorms, and the cold air suprises him a little bit; it already snowed here last week, and there is still snow remaining at the side of the path- it‘s freezing, to be honest, so he sprints in, and then out again, with a defiant look at the Clock.  
He isn‘t late just now and it always takes time until the Orchestra starts, due to having to tune all the instruments; he never has to tune, luckily, because it would require to much effort, and so they just tune towards him.  
It‘s very cold, and he scoots along, regretting not to have taken his jacket, too, when he left the Dorm room just a few seconds ago, or at least something like a Jersey. He didn‘t, though, and now he is left to regret and walk really fast.  
The room in which the Orchestra takes place is already bursting with sounds and people when he hushes in, falling down on his seat, arranging his sheets before taking the first look around at the Room.  
He‘s seated in the back of the room, in front of him are only the Double-basses and the Bleachers; Martin winks at him with a small grin before turning towards his partner again, chatting about something. Then, in front of the Bleachers are the Flutes and Clarinettes; next to them, just out of eyesight for Rasmus are the Violin Players, and the Soloists if there are some. The Soloists are the only ones who continuosly change places, because they have to be close to whoever else is playing Solos.  
Right in his line of sight is the Conductor, and then next to her are the Violas, the Secind Violins and then- the Celli.  
There is one empty seat in this section today, and it‘s not until they started playing that the door opens one final time.  
His heart makes an embarassing leap at the mere sight; his face feels flushed, his hands sweaty, and she very much only walked in a second ago; his breath hitches in his throath, his whole body feels out of place, and he‘s painfully aware that he‘s staring.  
Femke Schmidt is an exchange student from Germany, who came here during both their first years; she decided to stay, then, until her studies were finished in four years, because she came to like Norway and this place quite a lot. She‘s no longer an exchange student, he guesses, but the name remained; on top of that, she‘s a good Cellist- and on top of that, she may be the prettiest girl Rasmus has ever met in his entire life.  
He started nursing a Crush on Femke Schmidt during Year 1 already, somewhere in the Summer of last year, when Luka introduced her into their extended friend group because he was interested in one of her friends, another Exchange Student; Elias didn‘t stay, but Femke remained in her Friend group.  
Rasmus was head over heels the second she turned up with a smile so bright it could fade the sun; she‘s pretty, in his eyes, with red, short hair and grey eyes that flicker when she plays music. He lost his heart when Marcin dumped his Piece on them, forcing them to practice way too much together, ending in a horribly flustered Rasmus after every session, big eyes and unsure smiles.  
He‘s not shy, not at all- except when it comes to Femke Schmidt.  
She‘s taking a seat next to another girl in the room, smiling at her, and he can‘t help but smile as well, even though he has no reason to; it‘s now that he realizes, he‘s probably still staring, and he draws his gaze away, focusing on his sheets again, while the Conductor starts talking again, about Marcin‘s new piece, she starts handing out sheets, around the room and announces the Soloists for this Piece. It‘s no suprise when it‘s Luka, of course, who smiles at Ms. Lerret and accepts the Sheets, before leaning back and flirting with one of the other Violinists, probably.  
The sheets reach him, and Rasmus takes the last one remaining- the one for Piano- humming the melody of the piece; it‘s typical Marcin, he thinks, with a lot of Quavers for the Brass instruments and Violins, with softer melodies for the Basses. A smile tingles on his lips when he sees the Piano-Solo, with iz‘s highs and lows and a rythm that makes him smile even more.  
Rasmus shoots a glance through the room, towards Marcin, who sits in the back; he can‘t actually conduct the Piece himself, but he surely wants to hear it played and give ideas on what to change- it‘s his composition, after all.  
Marcin is looking in the other direction, though, so he doesn‘t catch Rasmus‘ eyes- when the Brunette follows the eyes of his friend, he finds him staring at Luka instead. That‘s- strange?  
The tapping sound of a wooden pen against a desk brings his thoughts to a rapid halt, and he turns his attention to the sheets again, listening to what the Conductor says until they finally start to play, finally start to make music.

 

It started snowing, and it‘s already dark when Rasmus finally gets out of School that day; Marcin and Luka are staying behind to do god knows what, and it leaves the Brunette quite curious, but his friends just put it off, Luka with a smirk and crossed arms, Marcin with an angry laugh and darting eyes. Martin and Oskar are heading out as well, to visit the library on books for a research they are doing, so this just leaves Rasmus on the walk back to the Dorms.  
He walks there, in the freezing cold and the snow, humming quietly, when he hears his voice being called and turns around- his feet feel glued to the Ground and once, everything about him is uncomfortable, his hands feel too long, his cheeks too flushed, his eyes too big.  
Femke Schmidt has snow in her hair and on her face, on her bright yellow coat as well- god, who wears a bright yellow coat and looks cute in it?  
„ Rasmus“ She says, and he cherishes the way she says it; Femke has a habit of pronouncing every name as one would in Germany, as Elias once said; she has a habit of calling him „Rasmus“, with emphasis on the „s“, Luka with a very long „u“, Marcin as if his name was written with an „s“ in the middle, too.  
He notices that she is holding something in her hand which he all too fast recognizes at his sheets from Orchestra earlier- but that was two lessons ago-  
„ You forgot your Sheets“ She says, and he sees the tiniest of a blush creep up on her cheeks, before she smiles; it‘s a shy smile, and it makes him forget his name for the shortest of a second.  
„ But“ He manages to croak out, she turns even redder.  
„ I would have just given them to you, tomorrow, but then I saw you walking here, and. Anyways“ She says, holding out the Sheets; their fingers brush shortly when he takes the Paper, and it startles him as much as it seems to startle Her.  
„ Your hands are freezing“ She says, furrows her brows, „Rasmus, why aren‘t you wearing a jacket?“  
„ I forgot“ He says, and then he‘s startled again, because Femke Schmidt pulls out a- it‘s almost like an extra coat, out of her bag, holding it out to him as well.  
He‘s starstruck taking the ... fabric? Which reveals itself to be a giant scarf, and he‘s even more starstruck when Femke steps closer to him, putting the Coat-Fabric-Scarf around him.  
„ I can‘t“ He begins, and she shushes him; they‘re so close together that he can feel the heat radiating from her, his cheeks turn red again and he feels stupid; he‘s standing outside in the Middle of Winter, in the snow, wrapped in a Scarf a girl gave to him.  
„ Wouldn‘t want you to die of Hypothermia, no?“ She says, smiling again and his heart leaves his body for a split minute, until his brain decides to function again.  
„ Thanks“ He says, still a little starstruck, but she smiles even brighter, and her eyes squint together when she does that, „No, I‘m- yeah, thank you.“ He stammers, before repeating himself again ultimately.  
Femke hums quietly.  
„ So, where are you going? To your Dorm?“ He asks, and she nodds, „Do you want me to take you?“ Is his next question, „It‘s quite late.“  
„ I can look out for myself“ She answeres, fiddling with the hem of her coat while they walk next to each other.  
„ I don‘t doubt that“ He answers, and he can‘t stop smiling, it‘s stupid- but it‘s hard to not smile like an idiot when Femke walks close to him and he‘s literally snuggled into her blanket, or whatever, „Still, do you want me to take you?“  
It‘s horribly quiet for a second, until she just deadbeat looks at him.  
„ Yes“ She says, and then they‘re both bursting into laughter.  
They say Goodbye, and Femke tells him to keep the Blanket for now, he can give it back later on, and he promises to not forget; not this time.  
When he comes back, Luka isn‘t there yet, he arrives about an hour later with a smug grin and reddish cheeks.  
„ What were you doing with Marcin?“ Rasmus asks, the thought stumbling back into his head.  
„ Oh“ Luka just says, as nonchalantly as ever, „We screamed at each other for a good hour.“  
„ What?“  
„ Jankos is writing me a Lovesong.“ Luka adds, grinning widely.  
„ What!“  
He doesn‘t get anything else out of Luka, to the point where he considers getting his phone out and asking Marcin directly what the hell they did with each other- from the smugness in Lukas voice, he either made Marcin go insane or they fucked each others brain out for at least an hour- Rasmus shudders, suppressing that thought really quickly. God. Good god.  
So, Asking Marcin it is; but the Blonde has already shot him a message. Two, to be excact.  
„ I‘m gonna strangle Luka“  
„ Hey do you have a picture of you and Femke Schmidt looking at each other“  
Rasmus puts his head into his hands before writing back.  
„ WHAT“  
__________________________________________________________________________  
He‘s been a Heartbreaker as long as he remembers; it had started somewhere during Grade School already, with a lot of the girls running after him for some strange reason. This pulled through to Secondary School, where he began taking Music more serious and also discovered that he had a liking for guys more than for those pretty girls with their big eyes and cheeky smiles, who giggled at stuff he said- they hadn‘t really been all that attractive to him, not as much as the Boys with their short hair and wide arms, who destroyed him in Video games and gave him semis during PE. But, no Interest in girls- a Heartbreaker after the rules of the book, never once dating a girl.  
Luka‘s never settled into a relationship once, in his entire life; there is no need to, not when the music is all that keeps him occupied, when he wants nothing more than to play as much Violin as possible, and to be the best Player he can possibly be.  
He‘s good, and he knows that; it‘s hard not to know just excactly how good when Solo after Solo is put up for him, when people specifically ask Componists to write something for him to play; he‘s good, and he likes to put that to the fact that he doesn‘t put focus onto anything else than music- well, most of the times.  
He‘s just barely an Adult, so his body sometimes isn‘t all that satisified with just making Music all the time; it makes him go out, party, pick fights with Marcin Jankowski who blushes to nicely when Luka calls him names and mocks him for something; it‘s not that he doesn‘t like Marcin, he does, because the guy is nice and polite- most of the times- and he‘s a good Composer. It‘s just easy and a good outlet for emotions and tension, and it fits his heartbreaker-nature quite well. His body also accepts the release for tension happily, because if he doesn‘t pick those fights with Marcin, his body searches for a different way and might put another crack into his self-proclaimed nature.  
When he focuses too much on music, without loosening up every now and then, his body makes him fall in love.  
Elias Lipp had been a pretty boy, with all too blonde Hair and circular glasses, quiet and with both the nicest smile and worst English Luka had encountered in a long time; he had fallen in love all too quickly, befriending the Girl Elias was with constantly, trying his best to scoot closer to the Blonde on every occasion; Elias had been his first kiss, after the Summer Concerto last year, all too hurried behind the Hallway that led to the stage- Elias had been Lukas first in almost everything. First time falling in love, first time he wasn‘t the flirty Heartbreaker with a way too big Ego, first kiss, fírst time he came undone, untouched, to open-mouthed kisses pressed against his neck, his throath, the inside of his tigh; first heartbreak- a horrible break-up, really. It had led to Luka finding an output for his tension every now and then, to never feel like throwing up because his whole body revolted ever again.  
This is where Marcin comes in, with his all too toothy smile and easy to anger-mindset; Luka lets his tension out on the Blonde Male as to not fall in love with him.  
He‘s not stupid, he‘s sure he has a thing for Blondes with the Way he fell in love with Elias, and Marcin has a smile that could make his heart jump- so Luka tilts the Blonde Boy, in an attempt to not fall in love again. It‘s working, and he smiles brightly across the room, in the general direction of a redhead boy who instantly blushes and turns away.  
Keeping up with his Heartbraker attitude, he thinks to himself, as he gets up and walks through the room, towards his friends and Marcin Jankowski.  
„ Hey, Jankos“ He says, making sure to put as much gusto as possible into his voice, grinning at Martin and Rasmus at the same time, „When are you free tonight?“  
„ Never“ Marcin answers, and Luka notes again that he‘s not complaining about the nickname.  
„ Oh, come on. You wouldn‘t keep me hanging, would you?“ He says, pouting slightly; his eyes catch the faint blush on Marcin‘s cheeks, and it makes his pout turn into a grin, „Let‘s meet again tonight.“  
„ No, no no“ The Blonde answers, then sighs, „Fine. In the same Room as yesterday.“ He says, and Luka smiles brightly at that, memorizing the way Marcin turns red when Luka winks at him, before turning around and talking to Martin again; Luka tries to memorize the way Marcin stumbles over the first few words as he begins his next sentence.  
He, himself, he settles for grinning ever so slightly, then turning to Rasmus and starting a conversation- he purposefully ignores every question as to what him and Marcin are doing, because in Rasmus‘ horrified voice he hears the accusation of them fucking each other. And, somehow, to him, that‘s too funny to correct.  
The topic disregards when Rasmus stutters like an Idiot while his glance trails off, somewhere behind Luka‘s Head- the Brunette only needs to turn ever so slightly and is met with red, curly hair and almond-shaped eyes.  
Straights.

Marcin is already in the room, which is stacked with chairs and has two tiny tables squeezed into the middle; a single window would be illuminating the room where it not for Winter in Norway, so the only source of light is a ever so dim lamp under which Marcin Jankowski is cramped, already scribbling down something, something. He doesn‘t look up in the slightest when Luka enters.  
„ I have already written a part“ The Blonde announces, gesturing slightly towards the sheets that lay just next to him, stacked on each other, „It‘s the One with the Letter F on top“ He adds, and Luka nodds, sitting down on the chair attached to the other table, just across of Marcin.  
„ Let me hear it“ He says, and is met with a strange look on the Blonde‘s face, then a shove of paper in his general direction.  
„ Here, take a look at it“ Marcin says, returning his gaze to his paper, which he is now writing upon; Luka frowns a bit at that, and it‘s strange, no? Marcin is the Componist, he should present it to Luka and not let him figure out the music all on his own. Not during the first initial hearing, at least. With the frown remaining on his face, Luka pushes the paper back towards Marcin.  
„ Please, let me hear it first.“ He says, and he half-expects the Blonde to cut out his act now and just, maybe, hum him the first general melody like most people would do it.  
„ Just look at it yourself“ Marcin repeats.  
„ But you‘re the Componist.“  
It‘s silent for a second, the comment sitting in the room between them, uncomfortably- something doesn‘t add up for Luka, and he‘s too confused to even give a smirk, a raise of his eyebrows.  
„ Look, just give me a general idea on how it sounds“ Luka says, ultimately, and he‘s not even sure why he‘s so set on hearing it from Marcin first, but it doesn‘t add up. Marcin‘s the Componist, he should present it- but the Blonde doesn‘t answer, doesn‘t look up, and so Luka goes through the piece by himself. It‘s good, but it‘s not something he would play- all too cheesy, and girly, too frilly with its Quavers and Notes.  
„ I don‘t like it“ He tells the Componist who is scribbling down other things, a few sheets stacked up next to him.  
„ Why not? It‘s a love Song, no?“  
„ It‘s not Me.“ Luka answers, „And if I have to play it, it should at the very least be something that I feel like playing a lot, you know?“ He adds, „This is all too- i don‘t know. It sounds too cheesy, like something from a teen movie.“  
Marcin raises his eyebrows, but he takes the Paper and shoves three others towards Luka.  
„ I had a few ideas, I got inspired“ The Blonde says, „Tell me something that sounds like „You“, if you find it“ He adds onto his sentence, and Luka can‘t help but give a smirk at that- it only adds to his smirk when Marcins eyes go dark and he mumbles a swear word which Luka can‘t quite understand.  
„ It all depends on you, with how fast we‘re done“ Luka says, he shrugs as he takes the three other sheets into his hands.  
The first one is another of those cheesy love songs which Marcin Jankowski seems to favour; the second is more aggressive, but as Luka goes through it he finds that he despises the Piece for some strange reason, be it the Piano Part or something else. So, this one is also off the table.  
The third one manages to catch Lukas interest, if only for a second, because it‘s too cheery to really be him, too fast to be a proper love song, and there is something else that throws him off- the same thing that didn‘t sit with him well when he went through the other two songs. Only now is he able to pinpoint excactly what it was.  
„ Who did you write these for?“ Luka asks, and Marcin looks up from his sheet which has a lot of notes on it by now; he tilts his head, but Luka isn‘t having that, if he‘s honest, „Because they sure as hell aren‘t for me.“ He adds, „Wasn‘t the assignment to write a love song that I could play? One that fits me?“ He asks, and he doesn‘t know why he gets so angry about it. Something doesn‘t sit right with him, the thought of Marcin writing those songs for someone else.  
„ I‘m not writing you a Love Song.“ The Blonde says, defensively, „The assignment was to write a Piece that you could play- but not specifically for you“  
„ Oh, so you admit that these are for someone else, huh?“ Luka says, driving the Sheets back over the table again, „Which girl took your heart, Jankos, huh?“  
They are silent, for a split second, before Marcin throws the last of the sheets over the table, for Luka to look through; the Brunette watches as his Composer starts a new sheet, angrily scribbling down note after note, and he‘s only through two of the Sheets, only half an hour has passed, when the last one is forced out of his hand.  
„ Here is your „Love Song““ Marcin snarls, pushing the hastily written on paper towards Luka; it‘s a mess, and he goes through the accords, looking if the Blonde insulted him along the way. When he finds nothing, Luka gives a smile.  
„ Look, that wasn‘t too bad, was it, Jankos?“ He asks, stressing the pet name ultimately, winking at Marcin before looking down onto the sheet- it‘s so angrily used that there are little holes in the paper, made by pen. He half-expects it to be horrible, by the way Marcin is fuming at him, and he wants it to be horrible, really, so that he has an excuse to let out his tension a little bit more.  
It‘s good, and it‘s excactly what Luka wanted, even if it‘s not a love song per se. With a violin it very well could be.  
„ It‘s good.“ He says, „I really like it.“ He adds, and for a second there is a smile on the Componists face, then a frown.  
„ Can you play it for me? So that I know what it sounds like, too?“ He asks, and Luka watches as Marcin bites his tongue in the next second, blushing; he doesn‘t understand. What is it with Marcin wanting to hear his own Songs played? Does he have an Ego in that direction?  
„ You already know what it sounds like“ Luka says, and he watches as Marcin goes even redder, fumbling with his pen in his hands.  
„ I don‘t“ He says ultimately.  
„ You wrote it.“  
„ I‘m not- I‘m“ Marcin stutters, and Luka wants to call him out for it, mock him about his own stupidity, because of course he knows how his Pieces sound. He‘s written them, to hell and all that.  
„ Martin“ The Blonde brings out, after a few quiet seconds, „Martin plays my songs for me, normally. I‘m not- Look, i don‘t play an Instrument. I can‘t sing. I don‘t even know what that sounds like“ He adds, nodding towards the paper and Luka is dumbstruck, his frown getting deeper. This- this really doesn‘t make any sense.  
„ You‘re a Componist. And a good One, too. Don‘t tell me you can‘t find a pitch.“  
„ But I can‘t“ Marcin says, and the Brunette is caught in suprise, because from the way Marcin squirms, blushes, looks like he wants nothing more than to scream- he‘s not lying. He is not lying- Luka lets out a suprised breath which almost resembles a laugh.  
„ You can‘t- you‘re not good with Music. You‘re not-“ He says, another laugh tumbling over his lips; oh, this is all too good, „How did you even- how do you write Music, then?“ He asks, and again, he has to laugh. It‘s too good, really, it gives room for so many more insults, for more possibilities to release tension, and who would have thought that, of all people, Marcin Jankowski would be the one that couldn‘t do Music? Luka feels like he‘s high on endorphine right now-  
And this high crashes way too fast, the laugh comes of his lips in one fluid motion, and all of sudden he feels like the worst person on Earth- is that what being high and hitting a low feels like? His good mood is gone as fast as it came.  
Marcin Jankowski is shaking, his hands trembling as he stands up, and he‘s so much taller than Luka, he‘s shaking and his face looks miserable, and if Luka felt like laughing a few seconds ago, he now wants to hit himself across the face. The silence that suddenly overcomes them is deafening.  
„ I‘m sorry“ He starts, but the door flies open already, and then crashes back close again, and he‘s sitting there, eyes ever so wide, and he feels really bad.  
God, why had he laughed? Why had his first instinct been to just make fun of Marcin who clearly looked so uncomfortable talking about this topic- and he had laughed, because he was a stupid Heartbreaker who could do nothing better as crush hopes.  
Maybe whatever companionship he and Marcin had, too.

It‘s a twist in his stomach when he walks through School the next day, heads towards his classes, sitting at Lunch with his friends next to him, chatting with Rasmus and Martin, making a joke that makes Mihael turn red- Marcin Jankowski doesn‘t look at him once the entire day, he doesn‘t say one thing as soon as Luka is nearby, and Luka suspects that he at least told Martin what happened, with the way the Blonde looks between them, then at Luka, as if willing him to do something about the situation. There is nothing he can do, though, not when Marcin won‘t even as much as breath in his general direction. He doesn‘t show up to their meeting, as well, and something in Luka twists even more when this goes on for a few days.  
By the time it‘s a week without Marcin speaking to him- except for class, where he manages to put on a good facade and assures their teacher that their piece will be ready for the Concert- Luka is sure he‘ll go insane, either from not getting any of the tension in his body out and his heart playing tricks on him, or from the pitiful looks now not only Martin but Rasmus and Mihael as well shoot his way.  
By the time it‘s ten days, Marcin Jankowski puts a stack of paper on his desk and goes away without saying anything. The piece is eight pages long and it is by no means a love song, Luka realizes as he works through it his spare time; it‘s much too angry, and it leaves him feeling sick to his stomach.  
By the time Marcin Jankowski hasn‘t spoken to him for two weeks, he‘s learned the whole piece and knows it by heart, maybe. Maybe playing the Piece is like fighting with Marcin, it‘s like having a conversation with him, and he‘s done nothing but practice it for the last few days; Martin listened to it once, when he played it in a free lesson, and he hasn‘t heared it before- Luka comes to the conclusion, a little bit shocked, that this means that Marcin hasn‘t heared it either. It‘s burned into his mind, the confession of the Componist, that he actually doesn‘t know what his pieces sound like.  
He asks Martin to bring Marcin to the Practice Room later that evening so that the Componist can hear his arrangement as well- it‘s stupid, and he doesn‘t even like Marcin, only for purposes of not falling in love has he kept the Blonde around for so long, mocking him whenever he got the Chance too. But with that- as of now, he thinks he might have to apollogize- if only to get the right to blow off tension again back.  
His fingers are shaking when he pulls out the Violin, the Bow, and then has to wait until Martin and Marcin arrive; the Componist looks like he wants to leave as soon as he sees Luka.  
„ I‘m sorry“ The Brunette manages to say, and he hates it. Hates that he has to say Sorry to Marcin, with his stupid big eyes and smile, which Luka by no means misses; but he owes him an apology, probably, and so he says Sorry again, and then clears hus throath.  
„ Is that all?“  
„ No- I. The Piece. Does it have a name?“  
„ No. Song for Percovic, probably.“ Marcin says, and the laugh that comes out of his mouth is dry, like a bark, „I only name important pieces.“  
„ Am I not important to you?“ He asks, in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood; the dry laugh stings in his body, somewhere in his guts.  
„ No“ Marcin answers, and that very much knocks the breath out of Luka- he wants to scream at the Componist, something, anything.  
„ Ah“ He says instead, because he can‘t have him leave- he‘ll fall in love. If Marcin leaves the room, Luka knows very well he will fall in love with the Componist, and his heart will be broken again. He can‘t have that.  
„ Have you heard it yet?“ He asks, then, and again, there is this dry laugh.  
„ What do you think, if Martin has only heared it once- he told me.“  
Luka chooses not to answer that, lifting the Violin under his chin.  
The song is too angry to be a love song, but it conveys emotion very well, like most of Marcins pieces, and Luka has to glance over the sheets towards the Blonde, but he has his eyes closed, and no expression on his face; he plays, plays through the piece, and when he‘s done the first time he plays it a second time, so that Marcin really has time to listen to it.  
He likes the Part that has a B scribbeled over it, it‘s the softest part of the piece, the saddest somewhere; it comes from the flat b Luka believes.  
Unsure, because Marcin still has his eyes closed, Luka goes through it a third time, putting everything he has into playing the Piece- he finishes, and the room is quiet.  
About half an hour has passed, and for a second he‘s scared that Marcin fell asleep and hasn‘t listened.  
„ It‘s a good Piece“ Luka says, and he feels stupid. He‘s a Heartbreaker, not someone who stands in front of a Boy and feels unsure like that.  
„ Thank you for playing it.“ Marcin says, finally opening his eyes- they don‘t reveal anything, „Can you play it one last time for me?“  
Luka nodds at that, and he plays it again, this time under Marcins expressionless eyes, and it feels like he‘s being judged for every small motion his fingers make, for every stroke of his bow; he misplays a part and he‘s done that before, but now his cheeks turn hot, and he repeats the passage quickly.  
When he‘s done, there is silence filling the room again.  
„ Luka.“ Marcin finally says, in the second Luka starts talking as well.  
„ I‘m sorry for laughing at you.“  
They look at each other, and they‘ve never really got along, but now they burst out laughing as if they were friends since forever.  
Something in Luka notes that Marcin Jankowski is really pretty.  
„ We have some work to do“ The Componist says simply, after they‘re done laughing; he stands up, and it‘s the first time he really looks at Luka; the Violinist feels like flying when Marcin smiles.  
„ We do?“  
„ We do have some work. I didn‘t like...“  
Luka nodds along to everything, and when they are back to mocking each other at the end of their meeting, his steps feel lighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcin gets jealous, Luka realizes something. Rasmus is still awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh i worked really Long on this chaper and it's still Shorter than chapter 1 but w/E  
> I hope you all enjoy it, though!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Musical pieces mentioned in this chapter:  
> "Kochanie" aka "Theme of Mitsuha" from kimi no na wa

Luka tilts his head back, and when he smiles his mouth does a vague heartshape- by the time they‘ve worked together for more than a week, meeting every afternoon to work on the Piece, ever changing the slightest bit, Marcin starts to think that Luka‘s smile is the prettiest thing he has seen in a long while.  
They are still fighting, most of the days, but by the time it‘s a week he actually starts to see some familiarity in all those fights, starts to find some sort of joke in Lukas insults, in the way he pulls Marcin‘s sleeves to nag him about something.  
The Piece, which still has the original title clinging to it- „Song for Perkovic“- it‘s still not perfect, and with how many times Marcin has already rewritten it, he starts to think it never might be perfect. Probably. It‘s also still not a Love Song, no matter how often he changes the parts, because he wants to keep the general mood, the general direction of the Piece- and the general mood just isn‘t a love Song. Mainly because he can‘t really produce a Love Song when he isn‘t in love with Luka Perkovic.  
Because he isn‘t.  
Not really, anyways.  
By the time they‘ve been working together for a week, he starts to think he might be in love with Luka, with the way he smiles, with the way he holds himself, with the way his eyes light up when he gets to the Midpart of the Piece- the Violinist has told Marcin that this is his favourite part of the whole Piece, and it really shows. His whole body is moving, flowing with the music whenever he reaches the Part, fingers moving ever so gracefully, completely engulfing both himself and the listener (Marcin himself) into the music. Also, his stupidly good looks, which draw the Componist in more than he likes to admit- he might be that deep in love that not even Lukas glasses bother him any longer, that he doesn‘t sigh whenever the Brunette has to stop playing to clean his glasses again, mumbling and cursing under his breath.  
All feelings he thinks might be blossoming disappear, however, when they step out of the room and Luka brings out his horribly morbid persona again, winking at every girl and guy that walks past, throwing his hands around Guys they come across, flirting with every Violinist who even looks his way; and while Marcin finds it endearing, the way Luka holds himself when they‘re alone, he finds it way more annoying how he acts in public, over-confident and like the World should bow down to his feet. He takes the Solo for A.Schnittke as soon as Ms. Lerret puts it on the desk, completely disregarding the fact that there are also other, not equally good but still good Players in the Violin Section- Luka takes the Solo anyways, with a heart-shaped smile to the Conductor and a wink to the Violin Player that looks at him; they‘re all looking at him, to be honest, looking at him like he‘s the sun, the moon, all the stars when he starts playing the Solo like he hasn‘t done anything else his entire life. Which he probably hasn‘t. It‘s whatever, really.

He‘s only half-listening, really, spacing out between his friends while they ramble on and on about a piece they‘re also practicing for the Christmas Concerto; with all that‘s gonna be played there, just by the Orchestra of Ms. Lerret, the Concert will take at least four hours, Marcin thinks to himself as Martin rambles on about the latest piece they‘ll play there.  
It‘s a Missa, a mess, by some fancy swedish Componist, and from what he hears at the practice, it has a lot of potential to be really, really good; Martin seems to love it, if the way he relishes in the Music, humming the tune of the „Kyrie“ even after they‘re on their way back to the Dorm. Rasmus is next to them, the Youngest is quietly complaining about the fact that the Missa- Missa Popularis, to be excact- has neither a normal Piano nor a Cembalo, so it leaves him with absolutely nothing to do during the whole piece.   
„ Well, it‘s only one piece“ Marcin says, „And looking at how many Pieces there are, it‘s- it‘s nothing, really, no?“ He says, Martin next to him nods.  
„ I think we‘re playing around five Pieces this Christmas, though. The Schnittke, then yours, Marcin, the Missa- oh, and the one baroque piece, from- was it Bach? I can‘t remember.“ Martin says, pulling his scarf closer around his face.   
These are only four pieces, but Marcin can‘t remember the fifth one right now, it‘s too cold.  
It‘s hellishly cold in Norway, and it‘s snowing, thick white flakes, which settle onto the floor and into the hair of the three young men- Marcin shakes his head to get rid of the snowflakes as soon as they step into the warmth of the dorm-building; in the second he enters, he remembers that he has made a horrible mistake.  
The missing, fifth piece for the Concert-  
„ Oh, Luka“ He says, standing deadbet in his tracks; Rasmus turns around to him, eyebrows arched. Martin looks at him for a second, before doing a small „Ah!“-Motion.  
„ I forgot about Luka“ Marcin says, and really, he forgot. They were supposed to meet after practice, just like they‘ve been doing for quite some time now. He forgot.  
„ What do you mean?“ Martin asks, but at that point the Other Blonde has already spun around, heading back the direction they came from. If Luka‘s still there, he has been waiting for- for quite a long time; a part of Marcin hopes that he didn‘t wait, or that he forgot as well, but another part wants Luka to be there, sitting, waiting for him. He doesn‘t know which version he prefers, honestly.  
But how could he forget? He doesn‘t know that, either.  
He enters the Building, heading straight to the Room where they normally meet- and backs away just after he opens the Door; for a split second, he‘s overjoyed. Luka‘s still there, he‘s still in the Room, waiting for him, for Marcin!- but he‘s not alone, and that‘s what makes Marcin back away.  
Luka‘s pressing his lips against those of a blonde guy who is so much taller, he even outgrows Marcin, maybe, closed eyes and tiptoes, and when he pulls away, his lips do that vague heart-shape that could have had Marcin in tears-  
„ Oh“, Luka says, quickly taking a step back from the Blonde guy as soon as he notices Marcin, „It‘s best you leave.“  
„ I‘ll call you“ The Blonde offers, and Marcin doesn‘t even know his name, but he doesn‘t really care anyways- he doesn‘t care, he forgot Luka, who cares if the Shorter has a Boyfriend, or whatever, it‘s nothing.  
„ Don‘t“ Luka says, quietly, but just loud enough that it reaches Marcins ears. It‘s whatever.  
The Blonde hushes out the Door, and it falls closed, and then they‘re alone in the Room.  
„ You are late“ Luka immidiately says, tone kind of accusing.  
„ Well, you found a way to bypass the time“ Marcin simply responds, and- god, he can‘t even look at Luka right now, and he wants it to be nothing, whatever, so desperately, but it‘s not. It‘s not, „Is he... Your Boyfriend?“  
„ Jesper?“ Luka lets out a breathy laugh, and something in Marcin unclenches when he shakes his head- only to clench back together, leaving him in the mud, „Come on, now, Jankos, I don‘t do Boyfriends. It‘s just- Jesper‘s a guy, whatever. Let‘s get working, no? It‘s late already.“  
They work for another hour, and Marcin can‘t stand looking at Luka the whole session. Normally, he always offered to walk Luka to his Dorm after- not this time, not when he doesn‘t want to look at the Brunette and his stupid heart-shaped lips.  
Instead, he just grabs his things and is out the room with a hushed Goodbye and steps that feel heavier; he doesn‘t greet Martin when he barges into their Room, just throws open the Keyboard and crashes his hands onto the keys.  
Martin, his best friend, that glorious idiot, doesn‘t even ask; he just nods and plunges in his earphones, letting Marcin bring out all his frustration on the keys, quavers and quarters flowing through the room- more so, stumbling and stuttering, because he isn‘t a good Pianist.  
Eventually, he feels a hand on his shoulder and a small smile when he looks upwards.  
„ That‘s good.“ Martin says, „Do you want to talk?“  
Marcin releases a breath he didn‘t know he was holding, and Martin is the best friend in his entire existence, because he lets Marcin press his face into his shoulder, and holds him for a few moments.

So, basically, he knows that he shouldn‘t shun Luka, because he isn‘t in love with the Violinist, that‘d be stupid, when they don‘t even get along that great in the first place.  
Still, he turns away, chatting to Martin louder, instinctively reaching for Mihael and Rasmus to sit down next to him, just so that there isn‘t any space left for Luka Perkovic- makes sense, no? It‘s whatever, he says, when Mihael raises his eyebrows. He just can‘t stand Luka, he always couldn‘t, there is nothing unusual about that, is there now? No, it‘s just him and his dislike of Luka that has always been there- Martin shakes his head at that, but Martin is the only one that actually knows stuff- and with stuff- Stuff is basically Luka Perkovic kissing a stupidly tall blonde boy, and stuff is Marcin getting incredibly jealous, and Stuff is Martin having to hold the Componist for almost a whole night.  
Mihael next to him tilts his head when Luka falls next to him, and Marcin doesn‘t want to notice, but he still notices that there is a splotch of bruised, red skin just above the collar of Lukas shirt; the Violinist catches his eyes and raises his eyebrows, as if to eclicit an aswer out of him.  
But Marcin won‘t give him that satisfaction- he‘d rather die, if he‘s honest, and just looks away.  
„ Jankos“ Luka says, after a few minutes, „Jankos, can we post-pone our meeting today?“ He asks, „I promised Daehan that i would study with him.“  
And Marcin‘s not even gonna ask who Daehan is, and he‘s also not gonna let Luka bully him around, even if his heart stumbles a second when Luka smiles his stupidly pretty smile.  
„ Ask him to study later. I‘m not going to wait all night just so you can have your date“ He adds, and knows the next second that that was definitely a mistake, if only judging by the way the Violinist perks up and grins brightly.  
„ Oh, you don‘t have to be jealous, Jankos!“ Luka says, „You know you‘re still my favourite, don‘t you?“ He asks, and Marcin bites his tongue as to not say something back, because both he and Luka knows that he already lost, with the way his cheeks heat up and by the way red tints his face.  
„ You‘re so pretty when you blush, Jankos“ Luka says, and Marcin turns away, having lost this fight- the Violinist smiles and turns to Mihael, nudging him about something while Marcin sits there and waits for the Blush to fade. His eyes trail over the bruise on Lukas neck again, and the sick feeling settles into his stomach again, especially when he gets to his next class and sees how the Violinist winks at the blonde Boy from a few days prior.  
It‘s stupid. It‘s- It‘s whatever, and it‘s the reason he shuns Luka even more the next few days.  
_________________________________________________________________________________  
He‘s keen on returning the blanket, scarf, whatever, to her just the next day, but his memory is bad, and so he forgets; he remembers, almost immidiately, though, when they actually see each other in Orchestra, and once again Rasmus is blown away by the sheer fact that she‘s actually really pretty when she smiles- he nearly stumbles over his own feet, drops his sheets to the Ground again; at least he didn‘t forget them, today. Still, his near stumbling is enough to make a fool of himself and his face heats up when he hears Luka snicker behind him, feels a hand ruffle through his hair and a wide-grin appearing next to him. He brushes it off, quickly, falling down on the Piano chair just as Ms. Lerret enters the room, Marcin as always trailing behind her.  
Rasmus can‘t help but notice the way Luka perks up at that, faltering almost immidiately when Marcin doesn‘t even give a nod in his direction; the Blonde just listens to their Orchestra Teacher, before stepping up and explaining something about his piece, how he thought to play it and what he‘d like to change in the aftermath of it now, because there is a part in the Flute‘s which he, upon thinking about it longer, didn‘t actually like as much as he thought he‘d like it. The Flutes just sigh at that, wipping out their pencils and already scribbling down whatever Marcin deems as necessary and useful; Rasmus watches as a girl raises her hand- he forgot her name, but she has dark hair and freckles- and Marcin walks over to her, leaning over her stand, saying things in that tainted English of his. The girl smiles, Marcin smiles back and when Rasmus lets his eyes trail around the room, he notices that Luka has accidentally broken his pencil in half between his hands.  
Ms. Lerret taps against her conductor stand a few times, and he turns back to her, watches as she gives a few final instructions before smiling at her assistant, and Rasmus is delighted when he sees his usual conductor take a step back, instead letting Marcin conduct his own piece.  
„ When we‘re having our Concerto, my dear Marcin here is gonna conduct the pieces he wrote“ She says, smiling sweetly, and Rasmus falls in the soft clapping, then brings his hands back to the keys.  
God, the Piece- it‘s very good, and he enjoys playing every second of it; there is a break for about 34 paces for him, right in the middle, and he uses it to look around the room- well, that‘s a lie.  
His eyes go to Femke Schmidt almost immidiately, following her every movement, and a subtle smile slides over his face- she‘s just. Rasmus lamented the fact that he might be in love with her, at first- he was here to become a musician, to be accepted into an Orchestra, to go on Tours and whatever, but he sure as hell didn‘t come here to fall in love with a girl even tinier than him, with a intelligent tongue and eyes that shine so bright-  
He nearly misses his cue, and Marcin gives him a mischievous look, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly; Rasmus would like to poke his tongue out, but he‘s too damn busy playing his part in this piece, so he does nothing and shrugs it off.  
They go through the Piece one, two times, with bigger stops in between when something doesn‘t fit quite right, or when the Flutes mess up- the brown-haired girl giggles everytime Marcin makes them repeat their passage, turning over to the girl next to her, whispering things Rasmus can‘t understand, but from the way she laughs, he can guess. Luka, Rasmus realizes, is staring at that girl as well, with a expression that‘s not that clear- is she Lukas type? Maybe so.  
„ Alright, let‘s do it again, yes? From the Start“ Marcin calls out, and the thoughts of Luka and the girl are long forgotten in Rasmus‘ mind when his fingers dance over the keys, engulfing him and everyone else in the soft tunes of the piece- there are only two thoughts left on his mind, then. One, being the music that fills the room.  
And the other, because he‘s still just a boy, and who can resist a girl that smiles like that- the other is Femke Schmidt. It‘s always her, really.  
It‘s her, when he leaves the Room after Practice, Martin next to him; Martin, who rambles about something, clutching at his notes ever so tightly, a small smile on his face. Rasmus is faintly aware that Femke Schmidt is somewhere behind him, but he‘s too shy to wait for her- she‘s probably with her friends, anyways, and he wouldn‘t want to intrude; but then he hears a clattering sound, and turns around, and she‘s- she‘s alone, and her sheets are spread out all over the floor- she must have tripped.  
Martin looks at him, and then back at Femke, and the Blonde grins knowingly and then nods his head into Femkes direction, so Rasmus nods back and walks straight over to her.  
„ Do you need help?“ He says, already croaching down, assembling the paper on the floor.  
„ I‘m sorry“ Femke mumbles, then looks at him, and he nearly drops the paper again, „It‘s just- ah, i didn‘t tuck them away properly, and now i‘ll have to- ah, you don‘t need to help“ She says, and her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink; Rasmus feels his heart jump.  
„ No, I- I don‘t mind.“ He says, „Let me“ He begins again, gesturing to the paper in her hand. It‘s a lot; around fifty sheets, at least, or more, „I‘ll walk you to your Dorm.“ He says.  
„ I don‘t need you to carry my stuff“ Femke says, and Rasmus swallows, his face heats up when he clears his throath.  
„ I don‘t mind“ He repeats, „I mean- Please, let me.“   
Femke looks at him, and he feels his cheeks turn red, and watches as she turns the excact same shade before pushing the other sheets onto him, looking away quickly.  
For a second they‘re both awfully quiet, then they start walking again, and Rasmus paints a mental picture where they walk next to each other and hold hands; that‘s not possible now.  
It‘s snowing, again, and he remembers.  
„ Ah, I forgot your scarf“ He says, and Femke tursn to him, a little bit suprised; she seems like she is thinking, then she smiles, ever so sweet, and he feels his heart pick up in speed.  
„ You can keep it.“ She says, „So that you‘ll remember me when I‘ll go back to Germany eventually.“ She says.  
„ But you‘re not leaving just yet?“  
„ No.“ She says, a little laugh on her lips, „Don‘t worry, huh?“  
„ I‘m not worried“ He says, rolling his eyes, which makes her laugh; it‘s the best sound in the World, Rasmus thinks, „Are you sure you don‘t want it back?“ He asks, and Femke nods, and then they‘re quiet for the rest of the walk.  
He doesn‘t mind, but he wishes that she‘d walk slower, that they could spend more time together, and more frequent; but he doesn‘t slow down his pace, because he‘s so unsure, and all too fast they‘re in front of he Dorm.  
Femke looks at him expectantly, and so he awkwardly hands her the paper; it‘s terribly stupid, but his breath hitches when their fingers brush, he feels Femke startle at the touch, as well. For a few seconds they are left, staring at each other.  
„ Femke“ He begins, because he doesn‘t know what else to say, and then he decides to leap of the edge, because she‘s so pretty, looking at him behind her glasses- Rasmus never really kissed someone, because he hasn‘t really had the opportunity, and he wasn‘t excactly in love before; he holds his breath and leans in, pressing his lips against Femkes cheek ever so carefully, softly. He steps back, releasing his breath.  
„ Sleep well“ He says, and his core feels like it‘s going to explode when Femke smiles at him with the brightest smile he‘s ever seen.  
„ Sleep well, Rasmus.“ She says, and when he turns around his steps feel lighter.  
Luka mocks him the whole evening for radiating of happiness.

_______________________________________________________________________________  
Luka can‘t help himself when Jesper walks past him, smiling and winking; he winks back, but it‘s not like he‘d invite Jesper back, into another session of making out.  
Sure, it was good, but it really wasn‘t that good, and he‘s not even interested in the blonde Dane, so it would make absolutely no sense for him to re-invite Jesper into the room with him, pressing kisses against his lips, tangling his hands behind Jespers neck.  
He‘s late, and this is the first time that he is late. Normally, it‘s Jankos who is late.  
Jankos, he thinks with a soft smile; Marcin has yet to say something about being called by this nickname, and until he complains Luka is just going to use it. He likes how weirdly defensive Marcin gets when he calls him by this nickname; there‘s a clock next to him as he passes into the building and he‘s later than expected, so he hurries to get to the room.  
It‘s not like he likes Marcin so much- it‘s just that he actually enjoys the times they spend together in the room, practicing their piece; more often than not, they have to start over, most times because of Marcin, who thinks he could change something about the piece which still isn‘t a love song, but it‘s their piece, and maybe they won‘t fail the assignment if they try and brush it off like they want it that way, like they want it to be more angry and less... less about actual love.  
There is music coming out of the room as he goes to open it; it‘s not their piece, but it‘s played on the piano, and it‘s played badly on the Piano- so he knows it has to be Marcin who is playing there.  
The tune is softer, different, and much more of a love song than their actual piece- Luka likes it immidiately and has half the mind to stop himself before he barges into the door and demands the piece for himself- and then he barges in anyways.  
„ Jankos“ He says, and watches as Marcin flinches, hands crashing down onto the keys and emitting a horrible sound, „Jesus, calm down? Did I scare you?“ He asks, and Marcin rolls his eyes, standing up from the Piano and closing it, so the keys don‘t show any longer.  
„ You‘re late.“  
„ What were you playing? Sounded like a pretty song to me. Do you have the Sheets for that? I mean, it sounded more like a love song than what we are practicing“ Luka begins, scooting closer to the Piano where he sees a stack of paper, but before he can see it, Marcin snatches it. There is a light shade of pink running across his face, up to his ears.  
„ It‘s nothing.“ Marcin says.  
„ If it‘s nothing, you can let me see it“ Luka says, reaching out to grab the sheets, but Marcin keeps them clutched tightly to his chest, before stuffing them into his bag.  
„ Will you at least let me hear it again? It sounded really nice.“ Luka asks, rolling his eyes internally; he‘s curios, because what could Marcin Jankowski possibly be hiding? There is a sting in his chest telling him it‘s a love song for a girl that Marcin likes, maybe even a boy.  
„ Maybe later.“ Marcin says,“after practice“, and Luka can‘t help but notice that the Blonde is not quite meeting his eyes.  
„ I‘m sorry I was late.“ He offers, and Marcin says nothing, „I swear, It wasn‘t my fault, yes? I got out of class late.“  
„ Fancy way for saying you had to kiss your Boyfriend“ Marcin says, and Luka is frozen for a second, until it unveils to him that, maybe, maybe-  
„ You‘re jealous“ Luka says, drawing out the words, „You‘re jealous, Jankos, aren‘t you?“ He asks, and he doesn‘t really know what that even means for them, because he sure as hell isn‘t in love with Marcin, but does this mean that Marcin, „Are you?“ He asks, again, „Because Jesper‘s not my boyfriend. I haven‘t even seen him like that since you caught us.“  
Marcin says nothing.  
„ Come on, Jankos, don‘t tell me you are still mad about that. You‘re jealous“ He adds again, and this time it draws a huff out of Marcin.  
„ Not at all.“ He says, „Let‘s practice, and don‘t annoy me, Idiot.“  
Luka would rather tease him more, but it doesn‘t make sense, and Marcins probably not jealous- he‘d have to be in love with Luka for that to happen. Or Jesper.  
No.  
They practice.  
They practice, and at the End, Marcin is smiling a little bit, as Luka packs his violin, and he would have forgotten altogether were it not for Marcin sighing quietly.  
„ You played well today.“ Marcin says, and then he sits in front of the Piano and plays a few notes, smiling at Luka, „I mean, If you‘re still interested, i‘ll show you the piece.“  
„ It‘s dark outside already“ Luka points out; it‘s gotten quite late, really.  
„ I‘ll walk you to your Dorm“ Marcin offers, an off-hand comment but really it makes Luka smile again; it‘s not like he likes Marcin, but he likes walking next to him, and their little talks. Despite everything, they manage to talk normal every now and then.  
They have quite a lot in common, Luka thinks, and then snaps out of his thoughts as a soft piece starts playing.  
It‘s- different.  
Marcin stumbles his way through the piece, re-doing whole phrases with a frown on his face, but the melody is still noticeable and it‘s nice and soft and just emits so much love- he‘s frozen as it ends, for a second, staring at Marcin while the music still rings through his body.  
„ Do you like it?“

It‘s cold outside, as it always is, and it‘s so dark.  
There aren‘t that many lamps, and he‘s got his hands in his pockets as he walks next to Marcin, chatting about everything and nothing at all.  
„ By the way“ Luka says, because it‘s still on his mind, „Really, Jesper isn‘t my Boyfriend.“  
„ I‘m not jealous“ Marcin immidiately says, and again, there‘s this blush on his face- Luka shortly wonders how it would feel to run his hands over those pretty cheeks, if they would warm up under his touch- he bats that thought away quickly, because that sounds like someone who is in love- it sounds like he‘s in love with Marcin, which he is not.  
„ I just wanted you to know“ Luka says, slowly, and then adds a, „I don‘t have a Boyfriend, I don‘t do that kind of stuff.“  
„ You said so“ Marcin answers, and Luka lets the topic drop, because they still have half the way to his dorm, and he really doesn‘t want to make it awkward. Instead, he tries something new- normally he‘s all about teasing Marcin Jankowski. This time, he clears his throath and compliments him.  
„ You‘re getting better at the Piano.“ He says, „Like, a lot. One wouldn‘t even think that you can‘t do music.“ He adds, because he‘s himself, and will always jab at Marcin Jankowski. Luckily, Marcin doesn‘t seem to mind.  
„ I‘ve been practicing“ Marcin says, „Martin teaches me when he has the time.“  
„ It shows. What you played today, it sounded really, really good. You‘ve really been improving“ Luka repeats, and when he has Marcin smiling at him, that‘s when he notices.  
That‘s when he notices the slight twinge in his chest, the urge to lean forward and press a kiss against the Blondes nose, red in his face. That‘s when he notices the stupid thoughts he‘s been having, and that some of them might have been more romantic than he initially thought. He realizes why he opted to kiss Jesper instead of Daehan, even though he likes Daehan more- he realizes all of these things and bites his lip; Marcin is still smiling.  
„ All good?“ He asks, with his tainted English, and Luka nodds. He gets the urge to lock their hands, and claws his nails into his skin.  
„ Just. Tired.“  
„ We‘re almost there“ Marcin says, and they resume walking, but Luka can‘t stop thinking, his mind running wild. He‘s done everything right- he teased Marcin, found release for his enthusiasm in music and the making-out with Jesper, and still, and still. He feels like he‘s a Year One all over again, so giddy for Elias to kiss him, but Marcin isn‘t Elias, and when he comes to his Dorm, he wants to stand on his tiptoes and kiss the Blonde Good night.  
„ See you tomorrow.“ Marcin says, with a smile and a soft touch to his shoulder; it takes Luka a second before he notices the stack of paper Marcin is holding in his other hand, to fixated on the touch against his body. It‘s stupid, but he can‘t even say anything against it, because he knows it‘s there, and-  
„ I figured that maybe you could play it? You‘re better in the Playing Department.“ Marcin says, and Luka takes the sheets, only feeling slightly electrified when their fingers touch. It‘s dumb.  
The sheets are scribbled all over with Marcins flimsy handwriting, but the title is easily seen.  
„ What‘s that mean? Kochanie?“ Luka asks, and Marcin shakes his head.  
„ Just a saying.“ He says, „It‘s late. Good night, Luka Perkovic.“  
Luka holds the sheets tighter and resists the urge to ask for a Good night kiss.  
„ Good night, Marcin“ He says, and it‘s only when he is inside that he realizes that he didn‘t even use the nickname this time.  
„ Hey“ Rasmus says, as he enters the room, „You‘re late. What do you have there?“ He asks, nodding at the Paper.  
„ Marcin wrote this. What does Kochanie mean?“  
„ Google it.“  
Luka lays awake that night, and has the highest hopes in his chest- it‘s horrible, because he‘s done everything right, and yet he still is in love with the way Marcin Jankowski smiles at him, and with the way his handwriting is splayed out all over the Page, forming a piece, forming a melody that makes Luka feel fluttery and soft and warm. It‘s so stupid.  
Kochanie means Lover.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used:  
> " Through a room" - Romantic Piano by Romantic Piano   
> " Song for Percovic" - "Arrietys Song" from the Secret Life of Arrietty  
> " NOT Luka Percovic aka marcins newest piece"- Twin Size Mattress by Sparrow Sleeps  
> "Luka" - the actual love song; formerly known as "Dario"- a song by me which i will link as soon as i record it properly. ("Luka" by Johanna Walter)
> 
> Link for "Luka": https://twitter.com/holocenous/status/1071168444089950209


End file.
